


Unravelled

by Fyre



Series: A Little Tied Up [2]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Light Bondage, Love, Safeword Use, Safewords, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:54:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27303715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fyre/pseuds/Fyre
Summary: Crowley eyed the rope in the woman’s hand with all the wariness he had given holy water.Technically, he’d signed up for a group class, but for some inexplicable miraculous reason, not another bugger had showed up, although their slots were all paid in full. Which meant the only person he was about to look like a tit in front of was the tutor.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: A Little Tied Up [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1993465
Comments: 29
Kudos: 127





	Unravelled

**Author's Note:**

> This is going to be a wee trilogy :) Mostly, because I have a mental image for the third scene and I can't not write it.

Crowley eyed the rope in the woman’s hand with all the wariness he had given holy water.

Technically, he’d signed up for a group class, but for some inexplicable miraculous reason, not another bugger had showed up, although their slots were all paid in full. Which meant the only person he was about to look like a tit in front of was the tutor.

“You indicated on your booking that your partner has used rope on you before?” Sally – blonde hair, blue eyes and _perky_ – didn’t look like the kind of person who spent her time tying or being tied up. But she didn’t laugh at him either, which was something.

“Um. Yeah.” Crowley rubbed at his palm with the ball of his thumb. “He said he liked to be tied up. I want to do it properly. He’s– we’ve–” He made an abortive gesture with one hand. “There’ve been less than good experiences. Not together!” he added quickly. “Other people.”

“Which means you’re already leagues ahead,” she said with an encouraging smile. She motioned to one of the mats on the floor. “Since it’s just the two of us, take a seat and we can talk about the basics.”

By the time he left an hour later, he was feeling… if not better, then definitely not worse. A bit more confident. At least, he had a rope and time to practise with it, even if he’d booked another couple of sessions, just to be on the safe side.

He coiled the rope up and tucked it in the Bentley’s obliging glove compartment before driving back to the bookshop to pick up the angel for dinner. The rope wouldn’t be getting a mention, not until Crowley was good and ready and that definitely wasn’t yet.

They had time.

Infinite time, even. He’d waited a good long while for Aziraphale and now that Aziraphale had taken the lead in some aspects of their relationship, Crowley was certain he wouldn’t mind waiting a little while for him to catch up.

Turn about and all that.

When he strolled into the shop and Aziraphale smiled at him, he grinned back.

Yeah, they’d get there. They always did.

___________________________________

“Wasn’t that marvellous?” Aziraphale beamed across at Crowley. “What a wonderful interpretation!”

“Can see they nabbed some influences from the revival in the forties,” Crowley replied with a fond smile.

Even though he wasn’t particularly partial to opera, Crowley had been the one to suggest they pop down to Glyndebourne to see the production of The Magic Flute at the festival. It had turned into a quite lovely day, with dinner at a rustic little pub and luxuriously rich ice cream as they pottered around in the gardens before the performance.

“That small production in Leeds?”

Crowley nodded. “This one had a better Queen of the Night, though. I liked her outfit.”

Aziraphale looked out of the window of the Bentley, hiding a smile. The woman had been dressed in black and gold with a flaming cascade of red hair. “I thought you might.”

Crowley snorted, deliberately hitting the accelerator and making the car leap forward.

“Crowley!” Aziraphale clutched at the seat unnecessarily. As much as he disliked Crowley’s high-speed shenanigans, they would never come to any real harm, especially not on a quiet evening and a fairly empty stretch of motorway.

“What?”

Angel and demon exchanged looks, then looked away, both fighting down smiles.

They chatted about the rest of the production for much of the drive back to the city, though as they turned in towards Soho, Aziraphale couldn’t help noticing that Crowley’s answers were becoming more monosyllabic by the sentence.

“Are you all right, dear?”

“Hm?” Crowley glanced at him, then nodded. “Yeah. Fine. Just thinking.”

“Oh dear. That does sound dreadful.”

Crowley snorted and made a face. “Sod off, angel.” He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. “Mind if I come in? To the bookshop, I mean?”

The bubbling warmth that had been settling around Aziraphale like a mantle engulfed him again. “I’m sure I have space on the couch for you,” he said airily, because one doesn’t want to seem too keen. “I’ve heard that it can even be slept on, should the occasion call for it.”

Crowley chuckled. “So rumour says.”

Aziraphale slanted a sidelong look at him. It was certainly quite unlike Crowley to worry about coming into the shop. More often than not, he just meandered in, invited or not. Still, raising the matter would only make him more fraught, so the angel folded his hands in his lap and peered out of the window into the city.

“I have a rather nice Chateau Lafitte squirreled away,” the angel offered.

Rat-a-tat went Crowley’s fingers on the steering wheel. “Maybe a coffee,” he demurred.

Again, very unlike him.

“Well, I can have a cocoa, then,” Aziraphale said. “Ooh, and some of that shortbread you brought from Paisley.”

“I thought you’d finished that,” Crowley said, raising his eyebrows.

“Only because I knew you would pinch the last few pieces,” Aziraphale retorted.

Crowley rocked his head from side to side, face screwing up in a grimace of acknowledgement that yes, he probably would’ve. Partly for his own amusement, but partly because it was one of the few sweet treats he actually enjoyed.

The Bentley drew up outside the shop and Crowley sat for a moment before taking a breath and climbing out of the car. It was almost as if he was nervous about something, which seemed unusual after such a pleasant day. Still, it would be very rude to ask in the street, so Aziraphale climbed out of the car and trotted over to open the door.

It took no time at all to make the coffee and cocoa, though he made sure Crowley wasn’t watching when he retrieved the biscuit tin from its hiding place. He carried both mugs through, the tin secured under his arm, and handed the coffee down to Crowley.

The demon was sitting uncommonly upright on the couch, right ankle resting on his left knee, his free hand tapping on the arm of the couch.

Aziraphale set down his own cup to open the biscuit tin, offering Crowley the pick of the tin. In companionable silence, they worked their way through the last of the biscuits and, little by little, Aziraphale was relieved to see a little of the tension leave Crowley’s body.

Licking the crumbs from his fingertips, Crowley made a show of examining them. “Question for you, angel.”

“Oh?”

The tip of Crowley’s tongue darted out. “While back you said you… you were partial to being bound.”

“Oh!” Aziraphale set aside his mug. “Yes. I did, didn’t I?” He gave Crowley an encouraging smile. “I must admit I _am_ rather curious. You seemed to enjoy it a great deal.”

Crowley flushed so beautifully, wriggling in his seat. “Ngh. Yeah. Did.” He turned his mug in his hands. “D’you want to? I mean, can I? For you?”

Aziraphale clasped a hand to his heart, which was fluttering ridiculously fast. “If you would like that,” he said, mortifyingly aware of how husky his voice had become, “I would very much like that.”

Crowley leaned down to put his mug on the coffee table. “Had lessons,” he said quietly. “Like you said. Need to talk first. Rules and things.”

Which explained the lack of wine.

The warmth consuming him again, Aziraphale smiled. “Of course.”

Crowley leaned back, then straightened up again, rubbing his hands together between his knees. “Right.” He frowned at his hands, then looked up over the rims of his glasses. “What d’you fancy? I mean, how much?”

“I’ve only really had my wrists bound so far,” Aziraphale admitted. “But I’m quite willing to be adventurous.” He couldn’t help the small, mischievous smile. “I have considerably more flesh for the rope to sink into, don’t I?”

Crowley’s throat bobbed frantically and he blushed to the tips of his ears. It really was quite lovely how readily he still delighted in digging his fingers into Aziraphale’s plusher body, as if shaping and moulding him. “Ngh,” he agreed.

“I put some thought into my word,” Aziraphale added. “I thought crepes would be rather appropriate, don’t you? Since you unbound me then as well.”

Crowley snorted weakly. “Yeah. Crepes. Okay.”

Aziraphale clasped his hands together in front of him. “Do you have any preference for what you would like to do with me?” he inquired. “After all, there are so many options and I looked out some pictures as well and–” He cut himself off at the utter stillness spreading through Crowley’s body. Tension again. Nerves. “Or we could play by ear?” he offered. “Tie the wrists and see how you find it and then decide from there?”

Crowley shifted from side to side. “Yeah. Wrists.” He groped into his pocket, withdrawing a length of pale rope. “’Ve got this.”

The angel watched him carefully for a moment. “We don’t have to do anything tonight,” he murmured. “If you want to wait, we can.”

Crowley jutted out his chin. “Want to,” he said, pulling the rope between his hands. “F’you do.”

Aziraphale rose and pulled his chair across the floor to the couch. When he sat, his knees brushed against Crowley’s. “Remind me of your word.”

“Apple,” Crowley said at once, his brow furrowing. “But you– _I’m_ the one doing the tying.”

“And we both have to be in the right mindset for this,” Aziraphale said. “That means both of us having words, should we need them.” He held out his hands, palm up. “Can you undo my cuffs for me?”

Crowley nodded, draping his length of rope across his knee. Aziraphale couldn’t help noticing the subtle tremor in his hands as he undid the angel’s cufflinks, drawing them carefully free of the cuffs. He cupped them both in his palm, then set them down on the coffee table and reached for Aziraphale’s cuffs again.

He started to turn one, then paused. “S’this all right?”

“Perfectly,” Aziraphale murmured, not moving a hair.

Crowley’s clever nimble fingers folded and smoothed the cuff three times. His thumbs skimmed the exposed skin, the heels of both hands grazing against Aziraphale’s, barely any contact at all. The second cuff, he finished, then cupped Aziraphale’s wrist lightly on the fingertips of one hand and bowed to brush a reverent kiss over his pulsepoint.

Aziraphale shivered pleasantly, lifting a hand to card his fingers through Crowley’s hair. “Lovely,” he breathed.

Crowley looked up over the rim of his glasses, then licked his lips again and groped for the rope across his thigh. He paid it out between his fingers, fumbling with it as soon as it came anywhere near Aziraphale’s skin.

“Fuck,” he hissed. “Apple. Apple.”

At once, Aziraphale turned over his hands to cover Crowley’s, wrapping around them. The rope fell to the floor between them and Lord, the poor fellow was shaking like a leaf.

“It’s all right,” Aziraphale soothed. “Take a moment.”

“Can’t–” Crowley’s chest heaved, his breathing all over the place. “Fuck. Can’t, angel. Not rope. Not on you. Not– I– them I remember them. Remember what they’d’ve done. Tied you down like that. Tied it tight.”

Not for the first time, Aziraphale wished Crowley had never had to see that side of Heaven again.

“I understand,” he murmured, rubbing his thumbs in soothing circles on the insides of Crowley’s thin wrists. “They used white rope then too, didn’t they?”

Crowley stared at him, his glasses askew. “Fuck. Yeah. Yeah, they did.” He hissed through his teeth. “I’m an idiot.”

“No,” Aziraphale said firmly. “Absolutely not.”

Crowley squinted at him. “Changed your tune a bit. Called me an idiot for inhaling a coffee bean this afternoon.”

“But never for this,” Aziraphale retorted. He outlined the sharp joints of Crowley’s wrists with his thumbs, gazing at him. “You didn’t mind ropes on you?”

The demon snorted. “Why would I mind? S’not like I hadn’t had worse and you’d never’ve done anything wrong. But you–” He bit his words off, glowering down at his treacherous shaking hands. “And now I’ve fucked this up for you too.”

“No.” Aziraphale got off the chair and moved to the couch, never letting go of Crowley’s wrists. He sat there, closer, their thighs bumping together, and clasped Crowley’s hands between his. “What we do, I want it to be enjoyable for both of us. If you don’t enjoy it, it’s not worth doing.”

Crowley stared at him in silence for several seconds. “Y’don’t mind?”

“As long as you don’t.” Aziraphale lifted his hands, kissing his knuckles and then his thumbs. “I have plenty of other things I enjoy. Your company and pleasure foremost.”

“Ngh!”

The angel laughed, leaning in to kiss his cheek too. “And those lovely noises you make.”

“Shaddup,” Crowley grumbled in a growl, but he was fighting a smile too. He turned his hands in Aziraphale’s to curl around his fingers. “And I wasted all that time on the sodding classes as well.”

Aziraphale squeezed his fingers gently. “It’s always nice to have a new skill up one’s sleeve.”

That got him a flat look. “Don’t be patronising.”

“I’m not!” Aziraphale laughed. “I’m sure there are plenty of uses for intimate rope work.”

That made Crowley snigger. “Yeah. I bet. I’ll just picked up some loose veg down the supermarket and tie it together with a harness knot.”

“You could always cuff some unruly courgettes,” Aziraphale suggested, relieved to see the smile spread across Crowley’s face. “Make them see how naughty they’ve been.”

“You know how courgettes are,” Crowley agreed, trying to sound serious and failing.

“Little rascals to a man,” Aziraphale confirmed. “Running about in Europe under an alias and everything.”

Crowley folded over their hands, laughing. “You’re such a silly bastard,” he said, knocking his brow against Aziraphale’s knuckles. He breathed out, the flutter of warmth making Aziraphale’s fingers twitch. “M’sorry. About the rope thing.”

Aziraphale tilted his hand, nestling the ball of his thumb in the sharp hollow of Crowley’s cheek, skimming it back and forth. “Is it just the rope that’s the matter?” he murmured. “Or the idea of binding me? You’ve freed me often enough before.”

Tilting his head into Aziraphale’s touch, Crowley hummed.

“Dunno,” he said finally. “Both?”

Aziraphale nodded thoughtfully. “I have an idea,” he murmured, withdrawing his hands. “If you’ll bear with me.”

Crowley sat up a little straighter. “Yeah?”

A deft tug at the right place loosened Aziraphale’s bowtie, the knot unravelling to let it fall, dangling down either side of his neck. He could feel the heat of Crowley’s stare on him as he twisted the top buttons of his collar open.

“Oh, you mean bare-bare with you,” Crowley murmured.

“Very witty, dear,” Aziraphale murmured. He caught one end of his loose bowtie between his fingertips, drawing it looks from his collar. It wasn’t excessively long, but there was fabric enough and he held it out. “What about this?”

Crowley took it. “What about it?”

Wordlessly, Aziraphale offered his wrists again.

Colour blossomed cross Crowley’s cheeks. “Oh. Right.” He looked from the tie to Aziraphale’s wrists and back. “Ngh. Right. Yeah.”

“It’s mine, you see,” Aziraphale said with a small smile. “I tie it around parts of myself all the time.”

“Ngh-hngh?” Crowley smoothed the shaped tartan cloth out between his hands. He was breathing harder again, but the tension wasn’t there. Not quite so nervous now. Still a little thread of it, though.

“Or perhaps,” Aziraphale caught his hand, lifting it back to his throat. “Tie it back on for me?” He leaned a little closer, whispering invitingly. “Dress me up, darling.”

Crowley’s tongue flickered out, forked now. “Someone’s sake, angel…”

Aziraphale closed his eyes and tilted his head back, baring his already shamelessly uncovered throat. “Be my guest.”

He felt the couch shift as Crowley moved, one of his legs insinuating itself between the angel’s as he stepped close. The warmth of him as he leaned in was intoxicating and Crowley’s scarf whispered against his chest a moment before two slender fingers slid beneath his collar, smoothing it upwards.

“Just so you know,” Crowley murmured, so close his voice positively vibrated against Aziraphale’s lips, “this wasn’t on the kinky rope tying curriculum.”

Aziraphale opened his eyes a crack, heart fluttering at the sight of Crowley’s bare face, golden eyes mere inches away. “Oh, I know what you’re capable of, dearest,” he murmured. “I remember the fun you had with cravats.”

“Cravats, yeah.” Crowley’s long fingers curved around the back of his neck, smoothing the bowtie in place. One hand slid down, spreading the open collar of his shirt, fingertips dipping enticingly into the hollow of his throat. “Load of froof. Not one of your prissy little bows.”

It ought to have felt oppressive with Crowley looming over him like that, fingers at his throat, but Aziraphale had never felt more secure. “You’re not fooling anyone,” he murmured, lifting his hand to press to Crowley’s hip. “I know you know what to do, you wicked tease.”

Crowley caught both ends of the bowtie and pulled, dragging Aziraphale’s head forward and crushing their lips together. The angel made a small sound of delight, squeezing Crowley’s hip, and parted his lips to Crowley’s greedy kiss.

“You’re a menace,” Crowley whispered into his mouth.

Aziraphale smiled into another kiss and slipped his hand boldly back to give Crowley’s neat little bottom a firm squeeze. “Pot and kettle, my darling.”

One of Crowley’s hands pressed to the angel’s throat, the touch infinitely gentle, and pushed him back far enough for Crowley to see what he was doing. “I’m meant to be tying this.”

“Yes,” Aziraphale agreed, rather more breathlessly than he’d intended. “Yes, you are.” And because one couldn’t have too much of teasing one’s lover, he rolled his head to one side, baring his throat, his eyes fluttering shut again.

Crowley’s thumb whispered the length of his windpipe. “Such a little trollop, angel,” he murmured. “Look at you. Utterly shameless.”

“I’m fully dressed, dearest.” Aziraphale slanted a look between his lashes.

Crowley stooped down over him, bringing his lips close to Aziraphale’s ear. “D’you think that really makes a difference?” he breathed. His hand moved down, pinching Aziraphale’s collar closed, twisting one button then another back through the holes. “Are you going to behave yourself?”

It took all of Aziraphale’s effort to keep a straight face. “Don’t I always?”

For a moment, Crowley went perfectly still, then he stepped a little closer until the front of his thigh pressed flush against the front of Aziraphale’s trousers. The angel made a small, greedy sound, his arousal already growing. He shifted his hips, dragging the seam of his trousers against Crowley’s leg.

Crowley caught his chin gently in one hand. “No moving, angel,” he murmured. “You move before I get this tied, I stop.”

Aziraphale jutted out his lip. “Hardly sporting.”

“Call it a test of good behaviour,” Crowley said, sounding altogether delighted, which – oh Lord – did not help matters at all.

“What about my hands?” Aziraphale inquired.

Crowley pointed looked over down towards the hand currently splayed on his backside. “No. You’re going to sit there and I’m going to tie you as slowly as I want.” His eyes danced and the joyful warmth in them made heat pool low in Aziraphale’s abdomen. “You going to behave?”

“Oh, very well,” Aziraphale sighed with just a touch of pettishness. “I won’t move.”

A soft kiss brushed his cheek. “Good angel.”

Honestly, it was ridiculous that such a little thing could make him want Crowley so much more. The temptation to pull him closer, to press against him, to roll them together onto the couch–

“I can read your mind, angel,” Crowley singsonged softly close to his ear. “You dirty, dirty bastard.”

“You can _not_!” Aziraphale huffed, blushing.

Crowley chuckled and kissed his cheek again, more firmly. “Well, I can read your cock. It’s getting pretty bloody obvious.” He slipped two fingertips under Aziraphale’s chin, tilting his head up. “Now, stay still.”

Aziraphale really did try, but damn him, Crowley was a terrible, terrible fiend. He slid his fingers along the back of Aziraphale’s collar again, as if smoothing the bowtie, but the warmth of him through the cloth was so light, barely intangible.

By the time he circled around to the front, he’d somehow stepped closer and was humming and rocking on the balls of his feet, positively grinding himself against the front of Aziraphale’s trousers even as his knuckles skimmed and dipped against Aziraphale’s bare throat, deftly twisting and knotting the bowtie.

“Shit,” he said cheerfully. “Mucked it up.”

And with a whip of his fingers, the tie dragged out from the back of Aziraphale’s collar.

“You–” Aziraphale moaned in protest.

Crowley’s knee sank onto the couch beside his hip and the demon lowered himself to straddle Aziraphale’s thigh. “What?” he asked innocently, as the seam of his jeans grazed along the top of Aziraphale’s taut leg.

“You’re doing that on purpose,” Aziraphale breathed, trying everso hard not to tighten his grip on the demon’s arse and drag him downwards.

Teeth nipped his earlobe. “ _Obviously_.” He smoothed the bowtie back in place. “Second time’s the charm, eh?”

Oh, Aziraphale adored him. Adored the casual way he rocked his hips as he worked. The way he pressed his thigh enticingly, inviting Aziraphale to rub against him. Tempting as he always did, whether consciously or unconsciously.

The back of his nimble fingers brushed Aziraphale’s neck as he looped and twisted the tie again and as he pulled it snug, he started to rock down on Aziraphale’s thigh in earnest. The angel bit his lip, hand twitching on Crowley’s backside, desperate to squeeze.

“There,” Crowley said, sounding thoroughly pleased with himself as he gyrated in place. He hooked a finger under the neatly-tied bow, as if it were a collar. “What a good angel you’ve been. And look at you, dressed up all nice and smart.”

Heat bloomed across Aziraphale’s cheeks. “Crowley…” he breathed, knowing the demon knew full-well what flattery and praise did to him. And Crowley chuckled, sinking down onto his thigh, pressing his own thigh against the front of Aziraphale’s trousers. “Oh…”

“And still sitting so still,” Crowley murmured across his cheek, teeth catching his earlobe, tugging. He pulled lazily on the bowtie again. “Behaving for the first time in your life, eh?”

“As long as you want me to.” Aziraphale’s breaths were coming shorter as Crowley started grinding, grinding for both of them, thighs rubbing intimately against efforts, the barrier of clothes somehow much more alluring than the absence.

“I know,” Crowley purred, then snaked that wicked tongue into Aziraphale’s ear.

Aziraphale moaned weakly, all his effort put into holding himself so still, so very aware of every point their bodies were touching: thighs, efforts, the tug of the tie hard against the back of his neck, the whisper of Crowley’s knuckle and nail against the front of his throat.

“I like it when you do what you’re told,” Crowley murmured, nuzzling his ear. “Knowing you’ll disobey everyone but listen to me. Do what I want. Because you’re mine, aren’t you, angel?”

“Obviously,” breathed Aziraphale then keen as Crowley sucked a stinging mark right below his ear, making his effort throb and again as it press-rubbed against Crowley’s lean thigh. “Crowley… please…”

The demon’s rocking was growing more urgent by the moment, his breathing as staggered as Aziraphale’s. “Ask me,” he prompted breathlessly. “You know you can. Ask me anything.”

Aziraphale turned his head to stare up at him, drinking him in, both of them flushed and so very, very close. And yes, here, in this place, Crowley holding him by his tie, safe and them and them alone, he _could_. “Can I…” The words hitched. “Please. Let me…”

“Let you?” Crowley prompted in a whisper against his lips.

“Touch.”

Crowley’s other hand covered on his backside. “Course,” he breathed into a kiss as they crashed together again.

Aziraphale moaned into Crowley’s open mouth, his tongue delving to tease against Crowley’s as he pulled Crowley mercilessly against him, both of them rocking now, sloppy and messy and mouths sliding and parting and licking, clumsy with want and need.

“Fuck…” Crowley groaned, burying his face in the side of Aziraphale’s throat, practically vibrating in place, hips stuttering and shuddering and with a last push, pressing deep and greedy as he spilled himself with a guttural growl.

Aziraphale twined his legs snugly around Crowley’s, holding him close, one hand on his backside, the other coming up to cup his nape, following him rapidly over the finish line with a shivering sigh. He sagged back against the back of the couch, breathing hard, Crowley spilled over him, loose-limbed and messy.

Under his bowtie, Crowley’s finger tugged weakly.

“Mm.” Aziraphale acknowledged, nuzzling his temple.

“Good tying,” Crowley burbled into his throat.

“Very.”

A forked tongue flickered across his pulsepoint. “Good angel.”

“Occasionally,” Aziraphale agreed with a small, sated smile.

Crowley kissed his jaw gently and, to Aziraphale’s pleasure, gave a soft sigh, a softer yawn, and drifted to sleep. It would have been very easy to move him to lie on the couch, but instead, Aziraphale took care of the damp mess with a snap of his fingers and drew a blanket around them both, tucking the sleeping demon up, Crowley’s finger still lovingly hooked under Aziraphale’s tie.


End file.
